


A different equation

by bamfleur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AND a football captain, Cas is a nerd, Dean is bisexual, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I'm just a sucker for those football AUs, Jo and Charlie are awesome, Lisa Braeden is everybody's least favourite person suprise, M/M, lots of swearing, rated M because it might contain smut in later chapters idk yet, this is my first fanfiction ever pls be nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfleur/pseuds/bamfleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Football/High School AU. Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are the football Team Captains of two rivalising schools and hate each other to the bone. What happens when they are alone after a match is as follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to write a fanfiction in english (My mother tongue is german), so I apologize for all my grammatical and language errors in advance. Also know that "Football" in this story is British English, so for  Americans it would be Soccer. Have Fun! ;)

 

"FUCK!"

They had lost the game.

The Freewill Highschool Football's team first play this season, and they had lost - worse, they had lost against their sworn archenemies, the Collins devils. _The Collins Devils!_ The Rivalry between the Hunters, as they called themselves, and the football team from the Christian Collins Private School - known as the Collins devils - had lasted for generations. It didn't help that both school were located in the same city, barely ten minutes afoot apart. Their dispute could sometimes only be described as childish, bordering on ridicule- but in all honesty, who cared? Nobody would ever admit it, but they secretly enjoyed hating the other school with a passion. It was simply too much fun. Not only the students, the teachers and staff (though they at least tried to act all grown-up) were sworn enemies as well. Though of course, nothing could match the rivalry between the two school's football teams.

And right now, a certain Dean Winchester was fuming. He was alone in the locker room, his team mates, looking crestfallen and defeated, had already left for the bus. He would go after them in a minute. But first -

"FUCK!"

Slam.

"FUCK!"

Slam.

"FUCK!"

Slam.

He fist throbbed after the last punch against the locker.

It was all his fault. Well, and _his_ , of course. If that damn son of a bitch called Novak hadn't tripped him, he could have passed the ball easily to Adam. Sadly, his reflexes kicked in too quickly and he could regain balance (why, why, why couldn't he just act more) before he fell to the ground - thus it didn't count as a foul, Novak didn't get a card, Dean couldn't catch up to him, and the Freewill Hunters didn't win.

Slam. The locker bled.

This was his senior year, and he wanted to make it count. What a great way to start it, he sarcastically thought to himself. Now, Lisa Braeden, his on/off girlfriend, would surely not even look at him, let alone keep her promise for a weekend together. Admittedly, Dean didn't mind that much. Lisa Braeden was the biggest bitch he had ever met. But just because her personality was shitty, didn't mean her body was, right?

However, the thing he feared most was his father.

John Winchester did not allow failure. His laughter had died with the death of their mother. Mary Winchester had been his light which kept the darkness at bay, but since the accident it had drawn him more and more in. Now his only goal was to push his sons farther and farther, not allowing sentiment, not allowing feelings. Hard words and hard work was all there ever was to him- Not so much the hard work when he felt like drinking. Dean knew that when he came home tonight, his father would give him a bitter speech and a look of utter disappointment. Then he would go find the nearest bar and two days later they would find him passed out on a park bench.

That's why Dean hated losing. If he didn't satisfy his father, he was responsible for his moods.

All in all, it couldn't really get any worse. That was, of course, until he heard the voice.

"Sour loser, are we, Winchester?"

Dean whirled around. He could recognize that voice in a million. Deeper than you would expect and slightly, _slightly_ sexy. In front of him, leaning casually against the door frame, stood none other that Castiel Novak.

Dean looked him up and down warily. He could see that he had already showered, his wet hair was messy and he smelled clean. He wore a fresh Collin's devils football shirt, wich was slightly too big and plain grey sweatpants. His eyes looked even bluer than normal- wait, since when was he noticing his eyes? Dean mentally shook his head.

"What are you doing here?"

Castiel smirked. "Wellll... I was actually just passing by, but I couldn't help hearing the "Fuck!" and the -", he pointedly looked at the battered locker, "- Punches, and decided to stop by." Something very deep, deep down buried in Dean thought that hearing Castiel say "Fuck" was incredibly hot.

"At least we play fair." Dean tried to sound as cool as possible.

"It's not my fault when you are too dumb to see a simple trick coming." Castiel even had the decency to look outright annoyed.

"Trick? That was a downright foul!"

"You didn't fall, did you now? My teammates at least aren't pussys when your team fouls us."

"You mean Ash? That was... an accident."

"Accident my ass! What about Crowley!"

"Crowley - oh" There was a short silence. Dean recalled how Crowley had used his elbow to act as a battering ram against one of Castiel's best players and couldn't hide a little pride. Sure, it had been mean - and he got a card- but worth it. They had scored soon after that. "You know those type of guys. They need a little action."

"Action? because of your stupid team one of my players won't be able to train for two weeks!" Dean could see how slowly, Castiel was getting angry.

"Who's the one complaining now, huh? As if you never send one of us to the hospital."

"That was one time!", Castiel defended, then added mimicking Dean's voice, "You know those types of guys"

"Shut up. You know exactly that today was not a fair game play end, we would have won otherwise." Dean knew that what he was saying sounded a tiny bit ridiculous, but his ego was wounded and well, he did not like it when his ego was wounded.

"You wish! You can't even admit it when the winner clearly was better you pathetic ass!"

"Better! Pure luck and mean tricks that's all their ever is to you!"

"You can't even acknowledge a fair play, can you? Fuck you!"

"You won anyway! You are never satisfied, are you! But oh no, the oh so perfect Christian Collins High School with King Castiel needs their peasants to bow in dirt and can't get off their high horse!!"

They were yelling now, their hormones flaring up on kamikaze trip.

"WE ARE THE HIGH HORSE?! AND THAT COMING FROM THE GUY WHO IS THE MOST ARROGANT JERK TO EVER WALK THIS EARTH!"

"TAKE THAT BACK, NOVAK!"

And in the end, nobody was sure who threw the first punch.

They had been in fights before, obviously. As notorious archenemies, they had had one or the other quarrel. Usually their friends or football mates were around them, cheering them on or trying to divide them. They even had a bar fight once. It had ended with a broken chair, six shattered glasses, and a very expensive spilled brandy.

Only this time was different. For the first time both of them ever recalled, they were alone.

Castiel tried to swing another punch at him, but Dean had had enough. His right eye already pulsed painfully where Castiel had landed a hit, and he knew that he would probably have a black eye over the next week. Castiel didn't look much better, his underlip was bleeding and he had a bruise on his right cheekbone. Dean dodged him, retreated a few steps, and charged. He used his advantage of being heavier to use the full force of their impact to slam the other boy against the nearest locker. Castiel let out a short painful sound as his head connected hard with it, but Dean didn't care. He was mad. There was something about Collins Private School's Team Captain that infuriated him. He couldn't even be left in peace for five minutes after the worst start in his senior year possible?! Castiel struggled under him to break free, but Dean captured him with his whole body between the locker and himself. Quickly he put a leg between Cas' legs - _Cas? Where the hell did that came from?_ \- to steady himself and make sure he couldn't escape. Castiel was strong, sure, but Dean was stronger. His archenemie's abilities lay more in the running area. He hated to admit it, but Castiel was as fast a fox. Though right now he tried in vain to bolt free. "Winchester!", hissed Castiel in his face. But Dean didn't budge. He didn't dare to say anything either, afraid Castiel could wriggle free somehow. "Let me go!" Dean just tightened his grip in response. He was distantly somewhat aware of the... Particular position they were in, but ignored it.

Dean could still feel adrenaline surging trough the other boy's body, shaking with anger. "Calm. Down.", Dean ordered through clenched teeth. He felt the other boy's heart racing with the beat of his own, impossible fast. For a second Castiel didn't stop, but then he took a deep breath and Dean felt Castiel's muscles relaxing slowly.

Dean internally screamed of relief - That Novak kid was stronger than he looked. A few silent seconds passend, where both just breathed heavily, trying to regain their calm. Their heads were dangerously close.

Then Castiel sucked in another breath and said: "Let me go." His tone was flat and controlled. Dean stared into those blue eyes, he could still see the anger in them. He wanted to release him, really. They both seemed to have come to their senses again. But he just couldn't draw his attention away. There was something in those eyes that had a magnetifying effect on him. Cas - _what the fuck is up with that nickname anyway_ \- didn't tear his eyes away either. He just looked at him. But there was something so intense in his expression that Dean felt absorbed in this blue. _Come on, Dean,_ he thought, _stop the fuck staring and look away_. But his willpower seemed to have dissolved into nothing. He was getting lost in a Labyrinth until he felt like drowing in an ocean. Blue, blue, blue they were, and absently he noticed that this was his new favourite colour. With every breath Castiel took, Dean could feel his breath ghosting over his mouth. There was a tension in the air and it seemed to buzz electrically. He couldn’t even begin go imagine what the other boy was thinking, there was just green to blue and blue to green. They continued staring at each other, until Dean couldn't stand it anymore.

Dean had to focus on something else or else he would explode. He managed to tear his eyes away, only to let them travel down to the worst possible next destination. It was the other boy's lips.

Something in the back of Dean's head begann to ring all the warning bells he possessed.

But _boy_ , those lips. The underlip was bleeding a little bit, from one of Dean's punches. They were pink and looked chapped, altough soft at the same time and alltogether... Perfect. A very, very bad idea began to form in his head. So bad, in fact, that Dean wanted to jump in front of a train for only thinking it. _Turn your head away and let him go, come on, come on_.

But at this point, his mind was fuzzy, he couldn't think, he couldn't act. His thoughts were whirling through his mind but escaped as soon as he wanted to grasp one. There were just those goddamn lips, Castiels breath on his face, his body underneath him. A voice was screaming inside him, but it was already too late.

Slowly - sloooowlyyy, so slow, even time itself seemed to come to an halt - he leaned in. He couldn't stop it. His body had taken control over him. Dean stopped halfway to _that fucking perfect mouth_ , he didn't know what to do. What was he even doing. What was happening. Was there even something happening. Was this all some fucked up dream. What - All his thoughts vanished, when he thought he saw Castiel licking over his lip. Afterwards, he wasn't even sure if it had been his brain hallucinating, some delusional wish of his teenage hormones, or if it actually happened.

Fact was, a second later he felt Castiel's lips on his and his mind went blank.

Their touch was light and soft at first, exploring the sensation. But soon their kisses turned harder, more demanding, it was like two waves crashing together, forceful and destroying. He could taste the blood. Suddenly Castiel's tongue grazed his lip, begging for entrance. _Son of a bitch,_ Dean thought somewhere in the dark depths of his mind where he was still able to form complete sentences. But Dean knew he was a goner.

Castiel tasted like the clean air after a storm. Like apples and spring, heaven and earth. They fell in a rythmus quickly, adapting to one another as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was wet and hot and fiery - it was amazing.

Kissing Castiel was - He couldn't even describe it. It was nothing like with a girl. There were no soft curves under his body, no warm breasts who lay heavily between them, no sweet perfume smell. Instead there was the other boy's hard body, pressed against his own - it was insane. And it was turning him _on_.

When he felt Castiel's hand roaming up his neck and pulling lightly at his hair he nearly lost it. He could feel himself harden, and remembering the position they were in, he could feel Castiel's growing erection through the the thin material of their sweatpants. Without thinking, he bucked his hips against Castiel's, he just needed some sort of friction, anything. To his own suprise, Castiel groaned, and Dean would be damned if that wasn't the most beautiful sound in the whole world. He wanted to hear it again and if it would be the last music he took to his grave, he could rest in peace. He collided their hips once more, and there was this wondeful sinful sound from the other boy again. Then it was just lips, biting, sucking, breathing, panting, hands roaming, pulling, body to body, tongue to tongue, just need there. Dean finally spotted from the corner of his eye Castiel's smooth, white neck and wanted to proceed to the inviting looking skin. Why hadn't he noticed sooner? He kissed Castiel's jaw, went farther down, was just about to bite down, when they heard the voice.

"Dean!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Castiel Perspective yay! Just for your information, I'll mostly write in Dean's or Castiel's POV, but later chapters might contain other persons too :)

They froze.

 

Everything around Castiel came crushing down like an avalanche, burying him under reality. Dean Winchester was like fire, and he had just burned himself. Badly.

He pushed Dean off him with a force that send the other boy staggering back a few steps before he could regain his balance again, just to quickly retreat a few steps more, bringing as much distance between them as possible. Luckily, the voice had come from behind Castiel - meaning the person, whoever it was, was still separated by a wall (as thin as it might seem). Given the construction of the building, they would need to go around the whole complex and in again to find them. Escape was out of question - the Event Organisers had already closed and locked all the doors except the main entrance, not expecting people that late wandering through the Stadion. No, they would have to encounter the coming person one way or the other. They had five minutes, tops.

Castiel couldn't order his thoughts. There were too many of them, buzzing inside his skull like a wasp swarm. He couldn't believe what just had happened. He, perfectly straight A student, just made out with practical stranger - Worse, with somebody from Freewill Highschool. Worse, with a boy. Worse, with the one person he hated more than anybody, _Dean bloody Winchester!_ A second long they just stared at each other, mirroring their expressions. Shock, Disbelief, Anger, Panic. And though Castiel would never ever admit it, he ached for Dean's touch again like a starving man. His own lips were still burning with the sensation of the other boy's lips, longing for more. Castiel tried to say something, but his mouth was dry. He was out of ideas. What possibly can be said after such a thing? The only sentence Castiel was able to come up with, was a low cursed: "Fuck, Winchester!"

At first Dean didn't respond, he was just standing there with his mouth slightly apart, his eyes wide open. He looked hotter than ever before, with disheveled hair and - _Stop thinking that! You hate him!_

Then Dean seemed to pull himself together. "No, fuck _you_ , Novak!", came the highly intellectual comeback. If Castiel had been in another situation, he would have rolled his eyes. But this wasn't any situation, this was... What was it? Trying to get a grip of himself, Castiel cleared his throat. He had to approach this - whatever it was - methodically, practical and calculating. _Focus_ , he told himself, _this is just like math._ He cleared his throat for the second time and took in a deep breath to steady himself. _I got this. 7x 592 is 4144._

"This -", he began roughly, gesturing with his hand between the two of them, "- Never happened. "I - I don't know what you thought, jumping me like this -"

" _I_ was jumping _you_?", Dean interrupted him incredulously.

"Yes. You. Pushing me against that locker-",

"You were basically asking for it with those damn blue eyes and those goddamn lips and -!"

Castiel could literally see Dean forcing himself to stop. A smug smile wanted to appear on his face, but Castiel fought it back down. Just so Dean didn't get any ideas.

"People have been known to have enough selfcontrol to watch porn in public without so much as lifting an eyebrow and you are saying it's my fault? Well excuse me for having blue eyes!", he said sarcastically, "Yes, blame it all on mother nature who gave me my looks - which are _straight_ , by the way - "

"I'm NOT GAY!", Dean nearly yelled, before apparently remembering to keep his voice down.

"Neither am I!" That was an outright lie, and Castiel knew it, but he decided to go with it. Just because he was gay didn't mean Dean - the most notorious lady's man to ever walk the earth- had to know about it.

"Oh so THAT'S why you decided to stuck your tongue down my throat!", Dean low- shouted.

"Well you seemed to like it!", Castiel snapped back.

The other team captain paused.

"Well maybe I __did__ like it!", Dean finally said, full of anger again, but more to himself than to Castiel. And before Castiel could stop his bloody mouth -

"Yeah so what if I liked it too?", he felt himself say.

There was a sudden surprised silence. They both had just admitted something, something huge and too alien to describe- and they couldn't take it back. A secret part of Castiel was beaming with pride that Dean had liked it, given the fact that Castiel was not the most experienced kisser. But the other part consisted mostly of _Nope nope nope SHIT._ He felt like he had chained himself to something bigger than he could comprehend yet. It was like a black cloud looming over his head, just waiting to unload itself.

Through the silence, the clock ticking by above them suddenly sounded ten times louder and reminded them of the threat waltzing it's way to find them. Castiel decided to leave the matter, he didn't want to think about it. Never again, to be honest. Some math equations you just had to avoid. He tried to gather himself, and briefly ignoring what just happened he just said: "We'll say we got into a fight, and that's all that happened. I was passing by and well, everyone knows we are notorious archenemies, nobody will ask the how and why questions." Dean looked glad of the change of topic. He opened his mouth to say something, but footsteps began echoing from the hall. They shared a panicked look.

"This never happened! I still hate you, just so you don't get any ideas, okay Novak?" Dean quickly said in a fierce whisper. Castiel didn't know why, but he felt his temper raising up again. As if it had been _him_ who started it all. How many times could a person get angry in such a short time? "You better remember that well, Winchester. This changes nothing between us. And now - hit me."

Dean immediately understood. He nodded, eyes fiery with an indefinable expression and raised his fist. Castiel knew, to make it look real they both had to fight - so without warning he punched into Dean's abdomen first (and he thoroughly enjoyed the surprised look, followed by a hiss and the words "You Sucker"), then attempted tackling him to the ground. But Dean was prepared and didn't fall, he grabbed Castiel's arm (Castiel tried to ignore the electric feeling that rushed trough his body), and tried to wrestle it around - but before any other actions could be taken, Bobby Singer, the Freewill Hunters' trainer, came striding around the next locker.

His eyes widened in suprise when he saw them.

"Idjits!", he called out. With a long stride and one swift, suprisingly strong movement, he separated the two teenagers and held them at their ears. "You complete, utter _Idjits!_ ", he exclaimed again, louder this time. He took a moment to examine them, swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Castiel's hands began sweating. But all he said was: "What did I tell you about getting into fights, Dean! Always the same with you lot! A _pain_ in the _ass_ , you two!" Castiel barely held in his sigh of relief, he felt Dean's body relaxing too. It had worked. Nobody expected anything. Or at least, Bobby Singer expected nothing. Mr Singer's gaze turned to Castiel, and within two seconds, he felt like being stripped naked to the bone. He immediately knew that this was not a man to be messed with. He would almost feel bad for not telling the truth, if it didn't evolve around _that matter_. Which he deliberately decided not to name. It would make it too real, too vivid.

"And you, Novak! Expected a bit better from someone like you!" Castiel felt himself wince unwillingly. His record had been so clean the past few months. "I'm sure your trainer will not be too pleased if I tell him about this. Wouldn't like that too much, would you?" Mr. Singer stared holes into his eyes. Castiel frantically shook his head, their new trainer would be livid. He already dreaded the moment he would have to confront Gape. Gape Jedrovsky, their Russian trainer was an overly- ambitious 40- year old man who enjoyed nothing more than tormenting other people. Especially his football team. God, he was going to be so mad about Castiel's fight. He didn't even dare to imagine if he ever found out what truly happened. _Which never happened anyway._ Denying it seemed easier.

"Though I must say, good play there tonight. Got some balls, boy. Maybe your trainer will hear it sometime, but it won't be a call from me. Follow me there Novak?" Relief washed over Castiel. At least one problem less. The other thing, well, he would have to figure it out another time. If ever. "Will you two idjits behave now?", Mr Singer asked, sharp eyes set on them. Castiel saw Dean nodding and he followed his example. Mr. Singer let them free and clapped into his hands.

"Now then, let's get going! Novak, I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around anymore. If I ever catch your ass getting into a fight with my boy here again, there _will_ be consequences. Understood?"

They walked down the silent hallway.

"Yes, Sir." He was glad he only had to answer shortly, he wasn't sure if he would be able to form anything above three syllables. All he could focus on was to look straight ahead and ignore the fact that his _dick_ had been hard not more than five minutes ago.

"Good. As much as I wanna keep picking flowers with your pretty face, I've got business to do. And I really recommend you to not wander off alone any time soon."

"Yes, Sir."

Mr Singer snorted. "And stop calling me Sir. I'm no more a Sir than your momma is the queen of england. Gotcha?"

Castiel nodded once more.

They got to the main entrance.

"You can be lucky that I was the one who found you, boy. If it were one of the others, you would be beaten to a pulp right now. Got to keep 'em on a tight leash. Now, I don't care who of you two started it and the when and how -" _I'm not even so sure myself_ "- but as much as my team likes it a bit rougher, we are also gentlemen. Dean, apologize and we can leave this sorry business." Dean mumbled something but didn't look Castiel in the eye. His eyes darted around, avoiding him.

"What was that?"

"Sorry."

Castiel didn't know how to reply. His throat was tight. So he just nodded for the third time. "No biggie." He tried to sound as casually as possible. He was Castiel Novak after all - always cool, never loosing control over his emotions. Dean shook his hand (always, always ignoring the tingle that flowed through the touch), but let go quickly. He didn't dare try to catch the other captain's eye, nothing good could come of it. He felt like in a dream. Did they really just... just... Barely a few moments ago? He could still _taste_ Dean.

Mr Singer didn't seem to notice anything, just grabbed his Striker's arm and walked off with a last warning glance.

And Castiel stood alone, watching the Freewill Hunters Captain's back, and knew he was fucked.


End file.
